The following journal excerpt was discovered by a surveyor for the U.S. Forest Service.

If you have any information that may identify or locate the missing person in the case,

please contact local or federal authorities.

March 17, 2022.

I started hiking and backpacking with my father when I was around 12 years old.

My mom passed away giving birth to me,

so my dad was the only parent I ever knew. He did his best to try to keep me interested in things

that typical little girls enjoy, but I never took to them. During the day, he worked as a store

manager for an agricultural supply company, but on the nights and weekends,

he worked on our small farm. He raised livestock to make additional income, as well as planted a few

acres of corn. While this took up the majority of his day, he was careful to include me to make

father-daughter time, feeding cattle, mending fences, harvesting corn, and running the tractors became our evening

routines.

Over the years, our little farm prospered and grew.

Dad was able to hire some additional hands which freed him up for more leisure activity.

I can still remember our first hiking trip. Dad surprised me

with a new hiking pack and pair of boots. My eyes sparkled as he told me we'd be spending

the entire weekend hiking and camping on a local trail. With how hard he worked, we had never

had the time to take a trip of any kind that I could remember. A few scattered visits to

family members in other states, but nothing like this. This was an adventure. He made me wear

the boots while we worked on the farm that week to break them in. My mind raced with the possibilities.

We had slept in the tent in the backyard dozens of times, but never in the woods.

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